


My Beloved

by GoldenJezebel



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Cunnilingus, Dry Humping, Episode Fix-It: s02e13 Mizumono, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort Sex, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Scars, Time Skips, abigail gets her agency back and chooses her situation, in the sense abigail calls the shots, older abigail (she's 22 when they reunite), this is totally consensual and not a threeway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 01:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18488311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenJezebel/pseuds/GoldenJezebel
Summary: "You are a present," Hannibal said. "He desires you, and that should be enough."Paling, it was then that Abigail realized she had never been her own person – not with her father, not with Hannibal, and mostcertainlynot with the flimsy delusions she'd built around her heart. She'd never been given her own agency. And now, she realized, she would soon belong to Will.





	1. Breaking the Ties That Bind

Nausea clawed at Abigail's gut, making her sweat and reel as she watched Hannibal do the dishes. How could he be so calm – so  _composed_  – when disaster was surely on their heels?

Finally unable to take it, she asked, "Are we going?" Her tone held a sharp bite of defiance, but if Hannibal noticed it, he didn't indicate as such when he lifted his head.

"We're waiting for Will," he said. "I want you two to be together."

Paling, it was then that Abigail realized she had never been her own person – not with her father, not with Hannibal, and most  _certainly_  not with the flimsy delusions she'd built around her heart. She'd never been given her own agency. Hannibal dangled it over her head like a tantalizing, shiny new toy, and yet it was always just out of reach. And now, she realized, she would soon belong to Will.

"Why…?"

"You are a present," Hannibal said. "He desires you, and that should be enough."

 _Desires?_  Head swimming, Abigail frowned as she struggled to make sense of what she was being told. Hannibal had talked up Will's love many times, of course. He'd said that they would be together soon, a  _family,_  and that it was what he and Will had always wanted. But deep down, Abigail couldn't help but be skeptical. Will had never seemed to be on the same page as Lecter. He was fond of her, she knew, and yet Will couldn't see beyond the comforting lies he'd cloaked them in.

"Will doesn't want me," she tightly said.

Hannibal set down a glass. "Nonsense, Abigail. When I last spoke to him, he spoke of desiring your companionship – of teaching you how to fish."

"He only cares for the  _idea_  of me."  _And so do you. I'm not her – I'm **not**  Mischa! No matter how hard you try and make me be!_

The front door clicked then, startling Abigail so badly that she nearly toppled over. "You left the door unlocked?"

"Will is expected," Hannibal said plainly. "I feel no need to shut out our guests."

"But…does he expect  _me?"_

Finally, Hannibal set down his dishes and spared her a cold, calculating smile. She had never before realized just how  _inhuman_  and  _wrong_  his affection looked.

"You were always meant to be a surprise," he said. "You are the one good thing in his life…the one he desires most."

In other words, she was a bargaining chip. Abigail felt sickened by the thought, and fearfully, she kept her back facing the hall as she heard Will's steady, tentative footsteps.

"Dr. Lecter?"

The formality of his call gave Abigail pause. If Will truly desired this – if he wanted to be a  _family_  – why had he reverted to last name greetings?

Will called Hannibal's name again, and then suddenly, the footsteps stopped directly behind her.

Nobody moved.

With her breath rattling in her lungs, Abigail tasted the tang of bile as she and Hannibal locked eyes.

"Hello, Will."

"Abigail…?"

Digging her nails into her clothed elbows, she slowly, fearfully turned and beheld Will's wide, injured blue eyes. She saw so much  _pain_  gazing back at her – relief, then sadness, and finally, the cutting sting of betrayal.

"How long?" His voice was harsh like a whip, but it was directed at Hannibal and not her. "How  _long_  have you intended to keep her from me?"

"For as long as it was necessary," Hannibal said. "I needed to know you were ready."

"For  _what?"_

"For my gift."

Fearfully looking to Abigail, a sickening realization fell and Will shook his head. "She was never yours to give."

"I would've thought you'd be far more  _pleased."_

While the men bickered, Abigail grew acutely aware of Hannibal's hand as it came over her shoulder. His fingers tightened, and then she was suddenly thrust back against his chest, the deadly curve of a knife now glimmering beneath her chin.

"No," Will choked. "No, no, no, this isn't you – Abigail hasn't done anything wrong!"

Hannibal wordlessly met his gaze, and with a sickening flow of panic, Abigail realized more than ever that she was expendable. There had never been a place for her in Italy. If she'd managed to convince Will to comply, her presence would be an unexpected bonus, but it had never been the ultimate goal. And now that she was no longer serving her part, Hannibal was fully prepared to rend her from the face of the earth. He'd  _lied_  to her…

_'I always keep my promises, Abigail.'_

_No,_  Abigail wanted to scream,  _you don't._   _You don't, you don't, you **don't**!_

Fumbling with the gun in his hands, Will's expression turned steely and he clicked off the safety. "This is between you and me, Hannibal. Just let her go."

Again, Hannibal said nothing. Though when he took note of Will's shaking hands, he had to smile. Will couldn't kill him – not even if he wanted to.

The distraction, however slight, gave Will the leeway he needed and he aimed off-course, firing and striking Hannibal's dominant shoulder. Lecter snarled, stunned, and his blade nicked Abigail's chin as she went sprawling to the floor.

With her ears ringing, her shock allowed her to be dimly aware of what was happening. Hannibal and Will were at her side grappling – Will had managed to tackle the older man amidst the fray – and she watched in wall-eyed shock once the glittering knife reappeared.

She tried to warn him. She tried to  _scream,_  but all that came out was a wheeze when the blade sank into Will's stomach.

Soon after, the room became awash in red, white and blue flickering lights, and Jack Crawford's voice came over a megaphone.

"Give yourself up," Will rasped, clutching onto his bleeding wound with one hand, and Hannibal's collar with the other.  _"Please…"_

With his face a cold mask, the smallest hints of regret crept through as Hannibal staggered to his feet, staunching the flow from his shoulder as he looked to Will and Abigail – his so-called  _family_  – in various states of injury on the floor.

"Someday, perhaps, I can still show you Italy," he said to Will. And with that, he turned and fled toward the back door.

Abigail was the first to regain her bearings. Crawling toward Will amidst the carnage, tears blurred her eyes and she tried to aid in pressing on his wound.

Gnashing his teeth, Will shook his head and tried to push her back. "No, no, I've got it."

"You don't," Abigail choked, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, Will…let me help you."

As deeply as she wished to be on her own, Abigail knew now more than ever that she wasn't ready to be. Not yet. And if Will died, she would truly have no one.

"No, no—Abigail, don't cry…" Lifting a shaking hand from his wound, Will attempted to cup her cheek as she sniveled. With as much as he'd thought she hated him,  _blamed_  him for what had happened, she was crying for him. The realization gutted him all the more.

The front door slammed in, and then a stampede of feet echoed through the halls.

Abigail sobbed with relief when she saw a stretcher. Unable to do anything but gesture to the paramedics, she moved back as two men crouched down and took Will by the shoulders.

To her surprise, he told her, "It's going to be okay, Abigail. You'll see."

Even now, with a gaping wound in his gut, he was thinking of  _her_  and not himself. She didn't deserve that.

A female paramedic knelt alongside her and began to inspect her chin, but Abigail barely responded. All she could do was watch Will get carted away, her hands curling into fists as terror wrapped itself around her neck like a noose.


	2. Together Again

Bundled up in a goose-down coat, Abigail headed up Will’s driveway with several quick, purposeful strides. It had been years since they’d last spoken – three, specifically – but with word of Hannibal’s arrest, she had finally been compelled to break the radio silence.

Stepping up onto his porch, Abigail heard the eager snuffling and yapping of dogs from somewhere inside. Now lifting her hand, she rapped against the door and took a step back.

The barking increased. An irritable _“alright, alright”_ followed, and then the door pushed open with such aggression that the hinges squeaked. Will staggered into view soon after, surly and disheveled, yet his face screwed into recognition upon spotting her. “Abigail…”

“You look like shit.”

Self-conscious, he rubbed his whiskered cheek and huffed, taking in Abigail’s hard, glittering eyes, the sullen pinch of her mouth, and the thin, clean slice that roped from her jawline up to the bottom of her chin. “You don’t,” he softly said.

Ignoring the compliment, Abigail tucked her hands into her pockets. “Are you going to let me in?”

“Oh! W-well yes, of course…” Clumsily stepping back, Will allowed her room to pass and looked to his dogs, all of which were watching the newcomer with eager silence.

“You’ve trained them well.”

“Hm?”

“The dogs,” Abigail said, slowly unwinding the scarf from her throat. “I didn’t realize you had so many.”

Closing the door, Will nodded stiffly. “I mentioned them in my letters…”

“I didn’t want to write you,” she cut in. “For a while I thought I did, but the longer I had therapy – _real_ therapy – the more I realized I didn’t.”

“And now?”

Shrugging, Abigail tucked the scarf into her pocket. _“Now,_ I’ve been given a clean bill of health, I bought a little apartment overlooking the park, and I started school at Georgetown. Dr. Bloom wrote me a letter of recommendation. I thought…I-I mean, now that _he_ isn’t in the picture anymore, I figured it’d be okay to reach out again.”

Will’s eyes lit up and his chest swelled with pride. “You did all that? You’re in school?”

Looking away, Abigail nodded. She’d never admit it out loud, but it felt _good_ to have someone be proud of her again, and over something normal and mundane and not _debauched._

“It’s our spring break,” she said. “I know I probably should’ve called first, but…”

“I’m glad you came.” Eyes shining with fondness, Will reached for her hand, but she abruptly drew back.

“Don’t…” Even now, touch could still be a trigger. Hannibal had used touch to control and _coerce,_ and thus anytime someone breached her personal space without preamble – without her _consent_ – she tended to have a kneejerk reaction.

Noting the hurt in his eyes, Abigail drew in a few deep, cleansing breaths – _in for three, out for three_ – then cupped his hand in between her palms. Now that _she_ had willed the contact, their touch suddenly felt safe and warm.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No,” Will whispered back, _“I_ am. As an empath, I should have seen…” Shaking his head, he squeezed her hand and exhaled. “Did you want something to eat? A drink, maybe?”

“Bourbon’s fine.”

A look of shock settled over Will’s face, and Abigail couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s been three years,” she reminded him.

“Oh, right…you’re about 22 now.” Embarrassed, he released her hand and went in search of his liquor cabinet. Though judging by his unkempt appearance and sour, whiskey-scented breath, he wouldn’t have to do much searching.

“So, uh…what are you studying?” Will called over his shoulder.

“Psychology, with a minor in criminology,” Abigail said. “I know everyone says crim’s a throwaway subject, but I think it’ll help shape my psych degree.”

Will nodded. “Then you’re…?”

“Going to be a therapist, yes. I think I can help people – _really_ help them – with what I’ve learned.”

Will smiled, now opening up the liquor cabinet. “I think you’ll be a great therapist,” he agreed. “You’re smart and quick-witted, and you’ve walked the walk. Patients appreciate that.”

As he filled their glasses, Abigail folded her arms and regarded him carefully. “You may say that now, but I’m sure you felt the same way about Hannibal.”

Will froze, nearly spilling the bourbon as he set the bottle onto the cabinet.

“You thought he was good, too,” Abigail persisted. “What if we’re both just really shitty judges of character? What if I turn out to be no better than him?”

Drawing in a slow, shaking breath, Will returned to her with their drinks and handed her a glass. “I’m not wrong about you,” he said.

“You were before…”

“Only because I intentionally blinded myself to the truth. I know what you are now, Abigail, and that’s a brave, smart, beautiful woman. You’re not who you were three years ago.”

“Which was?”

“Lost, confused… _coerced._ You couldn’t help what you’d become.”

Glowering down into her glass, Abigail shook her head before taking a long, hard swallow. “I don’t want to be told who and what I am anymore,” she snapped, “and that includes your compliments. I’m not just some ‘smart, beautiful woman,’ Will, I’ve got hopes – _dreams_ – none of which include those traits.”

Appearing sheepish, Will moved to apologize, but Abigail was already heading toward the door. “I’ve got luggage in my car,” she said. “I hope you have a guest bedroom, ‘cause otherwise, I might’ve just made sleeping arrangements awkward.” With that, she shut the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

After preparations had been made, Abigail holed herself up in the guest bedroom – a cozy, yet comfortable room of pale grey that overlooked Will’s vast, boundless land – and had ignored his offer of dinner.

Accepting defeat, Will had briefly fed himself, the dogs, and then retired to his own room across the way. The sound of his small fan whirred in his head, and drowsily, he rolled over onto his back. That was when the door clicked.

Slowly opening his eyes, Will jerked at the sight of Abigail in his doorway. She appeared pale and nymph-like in the moonlight, and as she crept toward him on silent feet, he found himself unable to speak as she pulled back the covers and slid into bed alongside him. It shamed him to admit he’d dreamed of this scenario before…

“Will?” she sweetly asked. “Are you awake?”

Hesitantly reaching out a hand, she splayed her fingers across his chest and trailed her touch down, down, down until resting against the rise and fall of his stomach. Will suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Carefully, Abigail moved her hand down lower. Amidst her time of reflection that evening, she’d realized that her relationship with Will was the closest thing she had to love – _real_ love, and not the dark, twisted kind Hannibal and her father had offered. It was far from perfect, but she was finally starting to feel _safe_ again, and that, she knew, spoke volumes amidst her night terrors and fear.

Biting her lip, Abigail kept her touch cautiously light, then cupped Will between the legs. It was a quick, barely there squeeze, and she jerked back when she heard him groan. Was he…?

Peering down at him for affirmation, she felt her heart race and her thighs tremble. “Will…?”

“Abby,” he whispered back, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. "What are...?"

"I want you to touch me," she cut in. Her timbre was sultry and surprisingly self-assured.

His hands came to her hips then and Abigail panted, pleased by his acquiescence, and her head spun as he tugged her astride his lap. With her hands on his chest, a gasp caught in her throat when she felt a telltale thickness prodding between her thighs.

“Oh,” she breathed, cheeks flushed as she deliberately rocked into him. Biting her lip, Abigail began rolling her hips back and forth, her head tossing as she tried to grind and thrust into his hardening cock. It was exhilarating feeling him in this way – to know that _she_ was the cause of his arousal, and that _she_ was in charge. She wanted to make him gasp.

With fumbling hands, Will reached beneath her nightgown and impatiently tugged at her panties. She helped him discard the soiled garment, and then her hands were once more on his shoulders, her legs spread and vulnerable. “Lie back,” she purred.

Leaning over Will, Abigail allowed her hair to fall around them as she hovered her lips over his. “I want you to go down on me,” she whispered, still rolling her hips into his. Without any panties on, she was fully aware of the wet, shiny streak she was rubbing off across his thin boxers.

Jaw clenching, Will swallowed and tightened his hold on her rolling waist. He had never enjoyed relinquishing control – it left him feeling far too _helpless_ – but for Abigail, he knew this was exactly what she needed…to call the shots and be in charge.

Nodding weakly, he used his body’s momentum to flip her over underneath his weight, but not in such a way that she felt overwhelmed.

Abigail yelped when Will wrenched her down beneath him, a soft gasp catching in her throat as he moved back between her legs. He began rocking into her and her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Tell me what I need to do first, Abby.”

His demand reached her then and she sighed, arching into him as his arousal continued to drive harshly between her thighs.

Will’s lips brushed against her own and Abigail gripped at his shoulders, leaning forward in an attempt at completing the kiss. “I think you know,” she whispered back, desperately seeking his cock with her pulsing core. When she couldn’t find his bulge to grind against, she gave a frustrated little huff and squeezed his hips between her open thighs. “Touch me..."

Gaining her permission, Will nudged her legs further apart and pinned her in place. “God,” he muttered, dipping his fingers toward her entrance, “you’re soaking wet...”

A sigh escaped her as his hand trailed down over her torso, then slipped gently between her thighs. Greedily, Abigail arched into him and bucked her hips, desperate to feel him inside her. Will’s mouth came fiercely over hers then and she whimpered. Tugging on his hair, Abigail mewled and groaned into the kiss, squirming as he rubbed and massaged her swollen cunt. With her free hand, she pushed down on his wrist in an attempt at getting him to penetrate her. _“Please,”_ she begged. “I want you to lick me…”

She squirmed a bit beneath his gaze, feeling herself clench and throb around his fingers.

Swearing under his breath, Will gritted his teeth while sliding his fingers inside her wetness. “You’re aching for it, aren’t you?”

Abigail huffed softly. His lips came to her throat then and she sighed, eyes fluttering closed as he kissed, nipped, and licked at her sensitive skin. His mouth wandered down over her stomach and she shifted, hopeful that he was _finally_ giving her what she desired. But when his lips suddenly latched around her sensitive bud, Abigail threw her head back and gave a harsh, stifled cry. Barely able to support her weight on her elbows, she began to slowly roll her hips into his face. 

Will shuddered along with her squirming. He dug his nails against her thighs as his lips and tongue worked between her legs, savoring the taste of her arousal. Dutifully, he worked his mouth over her slit and tilted her hips, helping her take him in as he devoured her essence. The sensation caused Abigail to whimper, her legs hooking over his shoulders as her hips rolled impatiently into his face. Will didn’t seem to mind the roughness – his tongue kept working between her legs and then his fingers suddenly joined in with his touch, making her writhe and scratch up his shoulders. She raked her nails up toward his neck and crushed his curls between her thighs.

Breathless, Abigail felt Will’s middle finger curl skillfully within her, driving her closer and closer to climax. With shaking hands, she lifted her nightgown up over her head in an attempt at alleviating the white-hot, intense heat that was rushing throughout her body. Biting her lip, she tangled her fingers through his hair and impatiently thrusted into his awaiting mouth.

Abigail seemed so very eager – in turn, it fed Will’s own hunger, causing him to work thoroughly, adding a second digit to twist within her wet tightness. Abigail’s mouth went slack and she arched her hips, shaking along with her breathy cries as Will’s tongue drove her closer to the edge. He licked and sucked at her wetness, encouraging her to rock into his face as she gripped at the sheets. She heard him growl and then he was digging his nails into her thighs, angling his mouth strongly into her heat as she jerked her hips in time to his lashing tongue.

She was close… Oh God, she could scarcely _breathe._

Abigail’s back arched and she yelped, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth as her thighs parted in surrender. She wanted more… _moremoremore!_

Will’s tongue rotated around inside her and then she felt something tense up deep within, her head tossing as she spasmed sharply around his tongue. As she flexed and gripped around him, she gave a soft cry and squirmed beneath his ministrations, riding out her waves of orgasm with slow, arduous thrusts against his mouth. Her gasps soon turned into soft, pitiful mewling noises and she collapsed against the pillows, breathless and trembling.

And then all was silent.

Slowly, Will withdrew and wiped her arousal from his mouth, watching her small, panting frame bathed within the moonlight. She was completely naked, and the sight filled him with a nettled, stinging heat.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Abigail mumbled. She rolled up and reached for her nightgown, covering her nudity as she rose from the bed.

“Wait…a-are you…?”

“Goodnight, Will.”

Bewildered, he rocked back on his heels and stared after her, tensing once he felt the responding, aching throb beneath his boxers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't really turn out the way I'd originally intended, but then, that always seems to be my track record. I guess that's what I get for trying to write a somewhat serious fic lol. This wasn't really hurt-comfort, so much as Abigail wanting to feel in control, and then Will letting her be in charge. 
> 
> P.S. Obviously, I changed the events of the show! In this story, Will remained in Wolf Trap and never met Molly.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try something different. Mostly because I've never liked how I write Abigail on this page. This pen name (in case it wasn't painfully obvious) exists only to provide smut, so in essence, I have to sacrifice how I truly see Abigail in order to make that happen (in most cases). Sooo, I wanted to try writing her more in tune to how I see her, 'cause I don't think I've ever done that on here. It's mostly just the hot 'n' heavy stuff on my page. And fear not, I've got another one of my "usuals" in the works, but it's always nice to try new things.


End file.
